


win because you don't know how to lose

by sun_on_the_sea



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Alternate Universe - Sports, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dadza, Emotional Manipulation, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exy (All For The Game), Gaslighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Alexis | Quackity, Parent Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Alexis | Quackity, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Scars, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sun_on_the_sea/pseuds/sun_on_the_sea
Summary: When Theseus's father gets arrested, he turns to stealing food from the nearby town of L'Manburg to survive. But when he gets caught, he is given an ultimatum: Go to jail, or join some guy named Philza's dumb sports team. He chooses the latter, signing up under the name Tommy and keeping his ear to the ground, ready to run at the first sign of his father being released. He just has to remember that this isn't permanent. But this team that some players call a "family" isn't going to make that easy for him. And with a championship game coming soon, Tommy finds himself liking being an Exy striker. But this isn't permanent, he can't let himself forget that. He can't have this forever.AKA; An All For The Game AU that literally NO ONE asked for (you don't have to have read AFTG to read this, though! It can also just be a weird sports/mafia AU)(tags will be updated as things/people become relevant!)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 136
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Welcome to the fic! Just a few housekeeping notes before we get started.
> 
> 1\. The DSMP characters do not have direct character counterparts in AFTG (ex., Techno is not meant to be Andrew, etc.). This fic is based on the general AFTG concept and plot, but the characters/exact events aren't exactly the same.  
> 2\. I know there is a good amount of sexual content in AFTG. Before anyone asks, there will be absolutely NO sexual content in this fic.  
> 3\. This doesn't fit in to a specific point in the DSMP timeline, I pick and choose from various points! If any of that brings about confusion, feel free to ask questions in the comments and I will respond, editing the fic for clarification where possible!
> 
> Just wanted to get that all on the table from the get-go! All right, enjoy! :D
> 
> ~~~~
> 
> tw: abuse, neglect, starvation

Theseus knew something was wrong when he didn’t see Dream for a week.

The longest he had been away was four days-- or was it five? Theseus didn’t keep track of the calendar much. All he remembered from that time was a hunger-induced haze. He didn’t remember what he had done wrong, but whatever it was it was bad enough to warrant a punishment so severe that Theseus had thought he was going to die. But Dream came back in the nick of time, just like he always did, with a gentle embrace and mushroom stew. As he drank, Theseus swallowed his pleads to have animals or crops around Logstedshire to make his own food out of. It wouldn't have worked, and Dream probably would have taken the soup away for his ungratefulness.

But this time, Theseus couldn’t think of anything he had done wrong. There might have been something that he had missed, but nothing that warranted a whole week without his father’s company. Theseus was fairly sure he would have bruises alongside the gnawing in his stomach to remind him of a transgression that bad.

Eventually, Theseus had started saving scraps of food in a buried chest. He was glad he had it it on the odd day that Dream forgot to feed him, but now his supply was almost gone. Theseus bit his thumbnail as he stared down at the crumbs dusting the bottom of the empty chest.

He didn’t want his father to come back and realize that Theseus was gone. But he remembered those times when Dream had withheld food before he had learned to ration. He didn’t want to repeat those nights spent in the dirt, limbs too weak to carry his weight, waiting for Dream to come and heave him to his bed and feed him and croon him to sleep.

Theseus swept dirt back over the chest and looked off to the east. His father said there was a town there. “L’Manburg,” he had called it. That was where he was when he wasn’t in Logstedshire with Theseus. Since Dream wasn’t here, he had to be there, right? Maybe if Theseus could find him, he could apologize for whatever he had done to drive his father away for so long. He would be punished for leaving Logstedshire, but at least that meant Dream would be with him again. He would rather be punished than waste away here all alone.

 _And,_ whispered a voice, _there will be food there._ Good _food._ Theseus started jogging toward the town, quickly slowing to a walk when he realized he would have to conserve his energy running on such little nutrition. He ignored the voice in his head that whispered of meals that weren’t burned or stale or half-raw.

Theseus’s legs had just started to weaken when the silhouette of a tower broke over the horizon. As Theseus kept walking, he could pick out more and more of L'Manburg, illuminated by the quickly setting sun. Lanterns floated above cozy streets lined with shops and homes, and humble-looking piers thrust off a coast into the sea. Theseus felt his lips twitch into something approaching a smile. He could see why Dream came here so often. As he neared, Theseus didn’t make out many people. It was getting late, and it looked as if most businesses were closed, while each home cast off warm gold light from within. From their windows Theseus could hear people. They sounded happy. He heard laughing and singing, not the shouting and clipped words that he was used to.

Theseus shook his head and brought his gaze back down to the signs along the nearest street to the edge of town he was approaching. There was a small-looking storefront nestled within a decent-sized shadow, hopefully dark enough to conceal Theseus’s coming and going. Before making his way out into the open street, Theseus tucked himself behind a tree and scanned for passers-by. There were two men, police officers, it looked like, off to the right, but their backs were to the establishment Theseus was assessing. Upon closer inspection, the place was called “Sam Nook Diner,” and there were entire loaves of bread sitting in a display case in the front window. Theseus felt his mouth watering, and glanced at the guards on the corner again. He would just have to be careful. He didn’t trust his stealth skills enough to carry him deeper into the town without being spotted.

As quickly as he could, Theseus made his way across the street to the diner. He laid each foot with a silent precision that by now was well-practiced. Theseus had perfected his technique through trial-and-error. In this case, "error" meant a hit from a furious Dream who had been woken by a too-heavy or misplaced footstep. Theseus’s father always had been a light sleeper.

He carefully inspected the front window and spotted a lock at the top of the frame. Theseus smirked. This town must be really safe if a business could have a lock this bad on a front window and be guarded by officers this inept and not be robbed into bankruptcy.

Theseus slipped his small iron dagger out of his shoe. Dream was insistent that Theseus never have any possessions of his own, with anything he did craft for himself being burnt or blown up in a hole Dream dug in the ground. If he was being particularly strict, Dream would make Theseus do it himself. But somehow, by some miracle, Theseus had managed to slip this knife by Dream. He hated the guilt that ate away at him over it when Dream held him and told him he was proud of him, but being all on his own in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no way to defend himself would have driven Theseus insane.

He used the knife to jiggle the lock open and slide the windowpane up slowly, keeping his eyes on the officers the whole time. He looked back, and realized the display case didn’t even have a lock on it. But when Theseus landed his hands on the softest loaf of bread he had ever felt, he picked up a word of the mumbled conversation the officers on the corner were having.

It sounded an awful lot like “Dream.”

Theseus strained his ears to listen.

“Anyone know when he’s going to get out?” one asked.

The other shook his head. “Just whenever he’s ‘rehabilitated,’ I’ve heard.”

“Good luck with that,” the first scoffed. “Irredeemable bastard. Hope he never gets out.”

The other guard chuckled. “If you had told me a year ago that _Dream_ would be arrested and put in an inescapable prison, I would--”

The display case lid slipped out of Theseus’s hands and closed with an impossibly loud crash.

The two guards spun on their heels. One hefted a loaded crossbow at him, and the other made a beeline for the trees. Theseus’s stomach dropped as he realized they were cutting off his escape. Before the one with the crossbow could speak, Theseus bolted toward the heart of the city, bread still in hand.

The stomps and shouts of the officers were quickly drowned out by Theseus’s ragged breaths and the pound of his pulse in his ears.

Dream had been arrested? And those officers had sounded so angry at the man. They had spoken his name like it was poison. But that was Theseus’s father, the man who didn’t always feed him but also the man who held him as he cried after he had nightmares. Dream was the kind man who would generously patch up an injury Theseus gained during a punishment if it was really bad. Hell, Dream didn’t hit Theseus very often anymore! He wasn’t an “irredeemable bastard.” He couldn’t be.

Theseus shook those thoughts out of his head as he made his way deeper and deeper into the city. He had to find an escape route. But this street that had originally looked so cozy with its buildings all nestled together now looked like a death trap, lacking any possible shadowy alleyway Theseus could slip down. And Theseus could see the coast approaching fast in front of him. He was getting close to a dead end.

There! Theseus veered to the right as he saw a big, round building that stuck out from the otherwise smaller, squared-off homes that lined the cobbled street Theseus ran down. Light was spilling out of a door held open by a man with a fluff of brown hair, who seemed to be peering inside and looking for someone. The building looked big enough to lose two inept guards in. It would have to be. Theseus swept the man at the door aside, ignoring his cry of surprise as he charged through the door. He heard it bang open moments later, the sound immediately followed by the familiar shouts of the guards. Theseus kept going straight down the fluorescent-lit hall, worn shoes squeaking on the linoleum. There was a small hall that split off to the right, but there were only three doors before a dead end. Theseus heard rustling come from one of them and the click of what might have been a door opening, but he couldn’t let himself focus on it as he broke through the double doors in front of him.

The sight in front of him made Theseus stumble a bit, but he couldn’t let his awe slow him down now. He attempted to focus all his attention on the bright red “EXIT” sign that shone like a beacon from across the massive room.

But it was hard not to be stunned by the high ceiling and the Jumbotrons hanging above a huge plexiglass box, big enough to count as another room in itself, that Theseus had to make his way around. Theseus dimly recognized the box as an Exy court, just like the ones in the games he used to watch with Dream. The man had been a diehard Ravens fan, and by extension so was Tommy. If there was an Exy court in here, this must be some sort of stadium. The rows upon rows of tiered seats weren't the dark, winding corridors he had been hoping for when he had run into this building, though. He couldn’t exactly lose a pursuer in here, but Theseus would have to make this work.

His breathing was ragged and his legs burned as he made his way up the stairs that led to the exit. He didn’t know how he had made it this far on an empty stomach with the realization that his father, the only person he had ever known, was in jail still rattling in his brain, but he had to keep running, he had to, or his father would know that he had left--

Theseus cried out as a hand shot out from the darkness beside the exit and picked him up by the scruff of his shirt.

As soon as his feet were lifted off the ground, Theseus started frantically kicking his legs. One hand clutched the loaf of bread to his chest, and the other lashed out, clawing at the air.

“Got ‘im,” Theseus heard the officer holding him shout. “This fucker is fast. Can you help me get him in cuffs? I don’t think this kid wants to go down without a fight.”

“Let me go!” Theseus shouted, internally cringing at how strained his voice was. “Let me go!” He continued grunting and thrashing as the man carried him down the stairs toward the middle of the arena, where his partner held a pair of handcuffs that glinted in the single floodlight that illuminated the Exy court. The sight of the cuffs sent a second wave of energy through Theseus, and he squirmed even harder. One kick caught the officer’s leg and almost sent him tumbling down the stairs, but the man just snarled and shook Theseus, who could feel his adrenaline waning steadily, the strength slowly seeping out of his limbs.

As the second officer took Theseus’s free wrist, preparing to lock the cuff over it, a voice called from behind him.

“Gentlemen, what’s all this?”

The man in front of Theseus sighed before turning around. “Philza, we’re apprehending a criminal. Please just let us do our job and we’ll be out of your hair--” 

“No, no, nonsense! Let me take a look at whoever just broke into my stadium.” The man, Philza, waved his hand and smiled with an air completely at odds with the rage rolling off the two officers. Philza walked down the steps towards the three, trailed by the brunet that had accidentally let Theseus into the building in the first place. The officer blocking Theseus from view stepped aside, and the one holding him roughly released him. The shove combined with Theseus’s aching legs made his knees give out under him, sending Theseus sprawling to the ground. He instinctively curled into the fetal position around the now-crushed bread. His breaths were ragged and, against Theseus's best efforts, occasional whimpers slipped out between them. Theseus's whole body was trembling, energy utterly spent.

Theseus heard Philza’s steps stop.

“Now gentlemen,” he said, a well-concealed sharpness laying under his polite air, “there must be some mistake. This isn’t a criminal, this is a _child._ ”

“Philza, this--” an officer began.

“Can you sit up for me, kid?” Philza continued, once again coming down the stairs and stopping in front of Theseus. He bit down complaints at being called “child” and “kid,” and managed to use his quivering arms to maneuver himself so his back was propped up against the nearest side of the enclosed court.

Theseus could finally get a good look at Philza now. He looked ridiculous, even by the simple standards that television had given Theseus. He had a striped bucket hat and a ridiculous long green coat, which was draped over a lighter-green low-necked top with billowing pants in the same shade. But the man behind Philza just wore a yellow sweater and a beanie. At least _he_ could dress like a normal person.

Philza looked Theseus up and down, and Theseus fought to keep eye contact. He could only imagine what this man thought of his torn clothes, ratty hair, and dirty hands still clutching onto the mangled loaf.

“What’s your name, bud?” Philza asked, and the gentleness in his voice and the concern in his brow made something in Theseus melt.

“T--” he began, but stopped himself. He doubted there are any other Theseuses in the area. If Dream somehow heard that a kid named Theseus had made his way into town…

“Tommy,” he finished, the pseudonym coming out hoarse, squeezed out of his dry throat. “My name is Tommy.”

“Well Tommy,” Philza continued, “have you ever played Exy?”

Theseus had seen a good number of Exy games on the television Dream let him watch when Dream was home, but Theseus had never held a racquet himself. He had wanted to, when he was younger, but even then he knew better than to ask Dream for things.

Theseus shook his head as the officers grunted in indignation.

“Now hold on Philza,” one said. “You can’t just keep--”

Philza spoke up again. “Now gentlemen, you know how successful my rehabilitation is for young people facing first-time offenses. I think Tommy would be an excellent fit for my team. If I’m wrong, I will let you know and ensure he is taken to the station myself.” Theseus shivered. “But,” Philza continued, “if Tommy agrees to play, he will move under my protection and care. You know how the system works when I choose to offer a contract to someone in custody. Unless I will have to get my wife to remind you? I doubt the President of L’Manburg’s investigation into both of your positions would look very good on your records.”

The officers stood silently for a moment, before one of them sighed. “Yeah, whatever,” the other mumbled. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Philza said, before turning back to Theseus.

“Tommy,” he said, “My team and I would be happy to take you on as a player and train you. You can compete with us as a member of our team when this season starts. You seem quick, I’m sure you would make an excellent striker. We will help you grow and hopefully rehabilitate you, and when you are judged to be so in a court of law your charges will be dropped. Would you like to play with my team, or would you like these officers to take you into custody?” The speech sounded practiced, judging by the way it rolled of Philza's tongue. How often did he do this?

Theseus glanced between Philza and the man behind him. They seemed friendly enough. He doubted they would be too rough with him, at least at first, which made Philza's offer tempting in itself. But beyond that, Theseus didn’t have much of a choice. In jail, he would be powerless. At least here, he could keep an ear out for news of his father being released. And as soon as he did, he would be gone, back in Logstedshire before Dream even knew he had been gone. Until then, he could scrape up food here and keep himself alive until he could be with his father again.

Theseus would have to become Tommy, just for however long it took for Dream to be released. After that he would run, and this would all just seem like a bad dream.

“I’ll play,” Tommy said.

Philza said something quietly to the officers, who grumbled and trudged their way out of the stadium. Philza came back to Tommy and crouched beside him. When he reached out, Tommy instinctually flinched, holding the bread as tightly as he could, angling his back toward Philza. He needed this food. He couldn’t let this be taken from him.

Instead of the rough hands grabbing him and wrenching the loaf from his grip, Tommy only heard a sigh from Philza and the rustle of him standing up. He sounded tired.

“Wilbur,” he said, “get Tommy some food, and show him where the showers are. He can rest on the cot in Niki’s office.” At that, Tommy heard Philza’s brisk footsteps leave the room, a door shutting behind him with a metallic clang. Tommy slowly uncurled himself and looked up at the man who he was left alone with. Wilbur.

He had bags under his eyes, but Wilbur smiled as he held out a hand to help Tommy to his feet.

“Welcome to the Foxes, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik this isn't how the law works but this is a made up universe I do what I want


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy doesn't know how to deal with people being nice to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so for those of you who haven't read All for the Game, I won't be writing out all the rules specifically, but if you're curious about how Exy is played here's the wiki with all the rules/info!  
> https://foxhole-court.fandom.com/wiki/Exy
> 
> The rules aren't really relevant right now since they haven't started playing yet, but I figured I would drop them here early! (Also, if you're curious about what the court looks like, the info's on that page ;0)
> 
> ~~
> 
> tw: references to abuse/neglect and brief mention of panic attacks. Dream messed this kid UP :///

Tommy hesitantly took Wilbur’s hand, and the man heaved him to his feet. Tommy’s muscles hadn’t recovered from his earlier sprint, and his knees buckled beneath him. But Wilbur was ready for him, bracing his side against the boy to keep him upright.

“Think you can make it up the stairs?” Wilbur asked. Tommy hesitantly nodded, and Wilbur began walking him towards the steps leading back into the hallway Tommy had entered through. 

“If you need to stop or for me to carry you, let me know,” said Wilbur.

“Good luck trying to pick up a big man like me,” Tommy said, chuckling quietly in an attempt to push down his mounting dread. He was feeling a little more stable on his feet now that he was walking, which was a good sign, but Tommy was going to need food soon. But he wasn’t going to dig into the remnants of the bread he had stolen until he didn’t have this stranger right next to him, propping him up with physical contact that had been a rare occurrence with Dream. The warmth of Wilbur’s body burned, and it was a relief when he led Tommy into one of the rooms he had seen off to the side when he had come in. Tommy spotted the name “Niki” on the door.

The office was small and simple. There was a cot, a chair, and a desk, with a locked cabinet nestled in the corner. The room smelled sweet, but not overbearingly so, with a slight chemical tang in the air.

Wilbur helped Tommy into the light blue cot in the corner, reaching under the cot when the boy was settled. Tommy tensed when Wilbur’s hands left his point of view, but he forced his shoulders to relax when Wilbur straightened up, holding a blue and red blanket that he draped over Tommy. Tommy opened his mouth to say something, a “thank you,” maybe, but nothing came out.

“We’ll worry about the showers later,” Wilbur said. He spoke with the same gentle tone as Philza, and Tommy felt like he could cry. “It’s a bit chilly out, I’ll grab you some hot soup. That’ll warm you up.” Tommy wasn’t cold, the exertion from his run had fought off most of the evening chill, but he wouldn’t dream of talking back to this man who had given him a bed and a blanket, who was going to give him food too if Tommy didn’t piss him off between now and then.

“Thank you,” Tommy finally said. He wished he had said it sooner, but Wilbur didn’t seem angry at the delay. 

“No worries,” he said, closing the door softly behind him as he left.

As soon as he heard the latch close, Tommy dug his teeth into the bread that had caused all this trouble in the first place. If someone had asked Tommy if had been worth it at the moment the food hit his tongue, he would have said yes without hesitation. The bread was sweet and soft, and even though the crust had been utterly demolished by Tommy’s grip, it was still the best bread Tommy had ever had. Maybe even just... the best food in general. Man, shoutout to this Sam Nook guy. He could  _ bake _ .

The loaf wasn’t too big, and Tommy was about halfway through scarfing it down when the door opened again. Tommy immediately stopped eating and clutched the bread to his chest again, a desperate instinct screaming not to let the food he had fought so hard for be taken from him. He sat motionless, something deep in his mind expecting Dream to come in and snatch the bread from Tommy's hands and tell him that he didn’t deserve it. Instead, in came Wilbur, entering with a gentle smile and a steaming bowl that smelled  _ delicious  _ that he held out to Tommy, who hesitated for a moment. He eyeballed Wilbur warily, trying to figure out if this was all a trick and Wilbur was just going to take the bowl back at the last second and laugh at Tommy’s desperation. Dream had done that sometimes. But Wilbur just smiled, and Tommy took the bowl from him, forgoing the spoon in favor of scooping the chicken soup into his mouth with the rest of his bread. Once he had started eating, Wilbur spoke up.

“I’m gonna step out and make a phone call. Phil should be here in a second to go over some paperwork with you. Shout if you need me.” Tommy just nodded, too busy filling his empty stomach to reply. Wilbur dialed someone on his cell phone on his way to the door.

“Hey, Niki,” was all Tommy could catch before the door closed behind Wilbur.

Tommy, frankly, couldn’t believe his luck. He was being looked after by two strangers, wrapped in a blanket and scarfing down food better than anything he could ever remember eating at Logstedshire. There was another shoe that was going to drop eventually, Tommy knew that. He would say something, do something, to set Philza off and finally make him drop his gentle facade. Maybe he would lock Tommy in a room somewhere so he couldn’t eat or have any company like when Dream would leave Tommy alone in Logstedshire. Maybe Tommy would just get smacked around a little. He was just going to mind his tongue and try to go as long as possible without that happening. He would try to enjoy this time here until he would have to flee and return to his father. Dream would be furious if he realized Tommy had left; not leaving Logstedshire was his biggest rule. But staying here in L’Manburg meant easy access to food, and it would be much easier to hear news of when Dream would be released from within the town. And if Tommy had to play on some dumb Exy team to make that happen, he would play. He just couldn’t let Dream catch wind of this. Tommy didn’t want to think about what the punishment would be if he did.

True to Wilbur’s word, Philza came in as Tommy mopped up the last of his soup with the heel of his bread. He was fuller than he could remember ever being in Logstedshire, and he could feel his exhaustion catching up to him.

Tommy’s eyes fluttered as he looked up at Philza, who just smiled back at him.

“Someone’s tired,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this quick. I just don’t wanna get in trouble for keeping you overnight without having some basic info filled out.”

Tommy set his empty bowl off to the side, shifting himself to sit up a little straighter and wiping a hand down his face in an attempt to wake himself up. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said. 

Philza sat at the foot of Tommy’s cot, and he either didn’t notice how the boy tensed or he ignored it. Dream never came near Tommy much unless he was angry or comforting Tommy with insidious false sweetness. But Philza had the same relaxed air he had kept all day.

Philza held out a water bottle that Tommy hadn't noticed him carrying. Tommy hesitated again, worried that this was a joke. But Philza just smiled that same kind smile, and Tommy took the bottle, cracking it open and downing half the bottle in one go while Philza shuffled his papers around and clicked open a pen.

“Alright, first thing,” Philza said, once Tommy had re-capped the bottle. “What’s your full name?”

“Tommy,” he said, but paused when Philza looked at him expectantly. He didn’t know his last name, if he even had one. He had always just been Theseus, and Dream had just been Dream, or “father” if he was in a good mood. So, Tommy decided to employ his incredible intellect and just let random vowels and consonants spill out of his mouth.

“Inn.. it,” he said slowly. “Tommy Innit.” He cringed inside. The way he said it made it obvious that it was a false name he had literally just now made up. And what kind of last name was “Innit?” But Philza wrote it down without even blinking. Was this man dumb, or did he just not care?

“Well, nice to meet you Tommy, even though it’s not in the best of circumstances. I’m Philza, but you can call me Phil. Some of the players call me ‘Dadza,’ so don’t let that confuse you.”

Tommy just opened and closed his mouth dumbly. He had absolutely no idea how to interact with this man. He was blond like his father, he was tall like his father, he wore green like his father, but he didn’t have any of the same rage living in the furrow of his brow or the set of his shoulders. It felt foreign, sitting here talking to a real life human who wasn’t Dream.

“Tommy?” Philza said. Tommy looked up and realized he had missed something Philza said.

“I’m really sorry,” Tommy said, apologizing automatically. “I didn’t catch that.” Philza wasn’t angry, the man just smiled and patiently repeated himself.

“Do you own a phone?”

Dream had never let Tommy have electronics other than the TV, and he could only watch that while Dream was in the house with him. Tommy shook his head. Philza checked a box and traced a line of text with his finger.

“Do you have any friends or relatives you want to inform of your contract?”  
Tommy shook his head. Philza checked another box.

“Do you have a place to live close enough to be able to make your way to and from here for daily practice?” 

Tommy swallowed. He wouldn’t have enough time in the day to commute here from Logstedshire on top of making sure he had enough to eat and keeping an ear out for gossip about Dream.

“No,” he said quietly. Philza’s expression didn’t change, he just made another mark with his pen and moved onto the next line.

“No problem. The building beside this stadium is used as apartments for some of our players in similar situations.” Tommy had to fight down a laugh. He doubted anyone on the Foxes could really be considered to be “in a similar situation” to Tommy, but he would let it slide. 

“It’s not fancy, but rent and bills are handled through the team budget, so money won’t be a problem,” Philza continued. Tommy couldn’t help it, his jaw dropped at that. He had expected to be sleeping in alleys or on rooftops, not in a  _ free _ apartment. 

Philza chuckled when he saw Tommy’s expression. “Since this team is rehabilitation-oriented, our funding looks a little… different from other teams’. I’m assuming you’re a minor, so you won’t be getting a salary, but we will take care of your food and board while you’re contracted with us.”

“...You calling me a baby, big man?” Tommy chuckled finally, unable to put much energy behind it. He didn’t know what to say.

Philza smiled. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ about you living the apartments.” Tommy nodded quickly. He pinched his arm under the blanket to check if he was dreaming. 

Tommy bit back a swear. Shit, that hurt. Not dreaming, then.

“Last thing,” Philza said, flipping his form over, “do you have any belongings to pick up from anywhere to move into your apartment?”

“No,” Tommy answered a little too quickly. At that, something finally flickered behind Philza’s eyes, but it disappeared so quickly Tommy wondered if he had imagined it as Philza passed the clipboard and pen to Tommy.

“Alright,” he said, “just go ahead and sign at the bottom. We’ll get the rest of the paperwork done in the next few days. Practices start in a little over a week, and everyone’s not moving in until three days before, so that’ll give you a few days to adjust before meeting the rest of the team.”

A knot formed in Tommy’s stomach as he looked at the dotted line. He didn’t like the idea of having so many people around him, seeing him, knowing him, even under a false name. He didn’t know if these games were broadcast; he had never heard of the Foxes on any of the Exy channels he watched, but what if he was on television and his father somehow saw footage and recognized him?

But what was the alternative? Going to jail, just sitting around and  _ hoping  _ Dream wouldn’t come get him? No, this was somehow the safest option Tommy had. At least here he wouldn’t be a sitting duck.

And he  _ had  _ always wanted to play Exy...

He took the pen, shakily signing  _ Tommy Innit _ on the line. The new, foreign name went clunkily onto the paper, but a signature was a signature, and Philza didn’t give it more than a glance before tucking the clipboard back under his arm. Tommy’s eyes fluttered shut again and he jolted, struggling to stay awake.

“Do you want to spend the night here? I’ll sleep on the couch out in the hall in case you need anything.”

Tommy’s throat tightened. Dream locked him in his room and slept outside when he was bad. Had he fucked up in less than a day?

“Okay,” Tommy said weakly, eyes drifting closed already as he laid back on the pillow. Dream’s offers never meant a choice. Tommy always had to say yes.

“Alright,” Philza said, “We’ll get more logistics worked out in the morning.”

Tommy was asleep before the door was even closed.

~~~

That was a lie. Tommy couldn’t fucking sleep. He had just been pretending to be passed out since Philza had left. But all Tommy could think about was nights spent in his room at Logstedshire, or even the tent outside Logstedshire if he had been particularly bad, for days at a time, with Dream sleeping guard outside during the nights to make sure that Tommy didn’t leave. Dream would tell Tommy that he had to sit alone and think about what he had done. But, frankly, Tommy couldn’t think of anything he had done wrong this time. And with Dream in prison and an Exy contract in his future, if Tommy had to sit here awake with his thoughts, he thought his brain might melt.

So he slid out of his bed and pressed an ear to the door. He was prepared to judge if Phil was asleep by the length of his breaths, but Tommy was surprised to hear the man was a heavy snorer. Well, that saved him some brainpower.

Tommy’s hand hovered over the doorknob. Phil had never said he  _ couldn’t  _ leave the room, right? And this door didn’t lock from the outside like his room at Logstedshire. Tommy huffed. He just needed to get out for a bit until he felt tired. Then he would be back before Philza even knew he was gone.

Tommy opened the door and closed it behind him silently. Philza, true to his word, was sprawled out on the couch out here in the hallway. Tommy took careful steps as he made a silent beeline toward the stadium doors. Tommy cringed as the push bar squeaked, and he let the door shut behind him as he made his way down to the court. The last time he was in this arena he hadn’t really had the opportunity to take in the first Exy court he had ever seen in person.

And it was  _ beautiful _ .

The court and seats were blue and red, and the plexiglass was spotless, except for a smudge where Tommy had used it to hold himself up earlier. Tommy crossed the track ringing the court and pressed a palm to the plexiglass. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine the sound of a ball ricocheted off the walls, music thundering from the Jumbotron, and the roar of a crowd that wasn’t just static through television speakers.

Tommy let himself bask in it for a moment, then he began to run.

Tommy needed sleep, he knew that. He could feel the familiar ache of sleep-deprivation in his head. But he had a little energy back thanks to the food and his time laying in the cot attempting to sleep, so Tommy started running laps on the track. The movement and the rhythm helped soothe Tommy’s nerves, and the air threading through his hair slowly but surely worked the thoughts he didn’t want to focus on out of his mind.

Tommy didn’t run for long, though, before he was interrupted by the sound of the doors he had come through opening and closing again. Tommy froze where he was, on the side of the track closest to the door, and looked up at the silhouette framed in the open door. The light behind him was too bright to see the man’s face, but Tommy recognized his stupid hat.

“Philza,” Tommy called, and he could hear the quiver of fear in his own voice. The clang 

of the doors must have woken Philza up. Tommy had hoped to go more than a day without getting in trouble. But of course, he couldn’t ever do anything right. Philza was going to be so mad, he--

“Tommy,” Philza said, and Tommy realized that Philza was in front of him, and that Tommy couldn’t breathe.

“Tommy,” Philza said again. “Tommy, I need you to breathe for me…”

Tommy braced his back against the wall of the court and slid to the ground, tucking his head between his knees and biting his lip until he could taste blood. The pain grounded him and he could feel the panic that had been leaking into his chest being re-bottled. It probably wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was how Tommy prevented mounting panic attacks when Dream was around. Tommy could have his episodes on his own time, his father had said, Dream didn’t want to be bothered with the noise or the hassle. Dream only comforted Tommy after the quieter nightmares that would leave Tommy a little bit shaken. The ones that made Tommy scream or whimper just pissed the man off. The sounds were annoying, a nuisance. Philza didn’t need to hear one of Tommy’s breakdowns either, especially not after the food and the blanket and the bed.

As soon as he could feel the panic shut up tight, he wiped his eyes and looked back up at Philza.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, “I’m sorry. And I know you didn’t say I could leave the room, I just couldn’t sleep and thought I would go out and walk around a bit. I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll do better.” This was Tommy’s tried-and-true method to try and get out of punishments, or, more realistically, make them less strict. Apology, recognition of what he did wrong, explanation, and promise to not do it again. That formula was usually what worked best with Dream, and Tommy hoped Philza would be the same.

But the man just sighed, lips squeezing into a terse line. Tommy opened his mouth to apologize again, but he immediately clamped it shut again. He had nothing else to say, the noise of Tommy speaking would probably just annoy Philza even further.

Instead of striking out, Philza spoke.

“Tommy, did you not like sleeping in Niki’s office?” Philza asked.

“...No,” Tommy said. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he didn’t want to be caught in a lie. “I’m sorry,” he added on for good measure.

Philza shook his head. “No, Tommy, I’m not mad,” he said. “I just wish you had told me.”

A pause hung heavy in the air.

“Is it a claustrophobia thing?” Philza asked.

“Something like that,” Tommy muttered, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. That was close enough to the truth.

“Would it help to sleep in here?” Philza asked. Tommy blinked back up at him. “It’s a big room,” he continued,” and there’s that emergency exit over there that I’m sure you remember. I can stay just inside the hallway just in case you need anything.”

Tommy cocked his head. Why was this guy being so nice to him? He just wouldn’t stop offering Tommy things. And unlike Dream’s, Philza’s offers felt like ones that Tommy might actually be able to decline if he wanted. But he didn’t want to turn down this one.

“Y-- Yeah,” Tommy said, and Philza flashed him that same, tired smile.

Philza made his way back to the hallway, and Tommy curled up on the ground, back nestled against the plexiglass. He had slept outside on the ground more nights than he could count. This was nice compared to that, there was no dew or chilly wind to worry about. Tommy closed his eyes, but they snapped back open when he heard the door open again. Coming through the door was a familiar flash of green wearing a familiar, absolutely  _ terrible _ hat. Man, Tommy was never going to get used to that.

Philza was smiling gently as he descended the stairs, but his expression faltered slightly when he saw Tommy curled up tight on the floor. His arms were filled with blankets that he held out for Tommy.

“You can borrow these,” Philza said. “I know it’s not perfect, but this may be a little more comfortable than just sleeping on the track.”

Tommy felt his eyes start to prick as his fingers sank into the pile of blankets. He didn’t deserve all this. His father was in jail, and he had gotten caught stealing a loaf of bread. Nothing he had done today warranted all of this kindness. He was just killing time until his father was released, so Tommy felt bad that Philza was putting so much effort into him. He couldn’t tell Philza that, though. He would probably call off the contract if he found out that Tommy was just planning to run. And a more selfish corner of Tommy’s brain didn’t want Philza to treat him any differently. Tommy wanted to hold onto this generosity for as long as he could.

“Thank you, Philza,” Tommy said, beginning to arrange the blankets into a makeshift bed.

“Please,” Philza said, “call me Phil.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said automatically. “Thank you, Phil.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Phil said. He looked at Tommy for a quiet moment. Tommy shifted under his gaze. He didn’t like the heavy emotion in Phil’s eyes that he couldn’t quite identify.

But before Tommy knew it, the moment was over. Philza turned and made his way back up the steps. 

“I’ll be just through these doors,” Phil called over his shoulder, “but if that makes you nervous, just remember there’s that other exit that leads directly outside, too. You can come and go as you please, and don’t worry about waking me up. I’m just staying nearby in case you need anything. I'll get this light turned out for you, too. You all set, Tommy?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Goodnight, big man.”

Phil chuckled. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

This time, Tommy  _ actually  _ was asleep before he heard the doors close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER WE MEET THE TEAM!! I'm so excited!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy meets the team's nurse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WAS WRONG THE TEAM GETS INTRODUCED NEXT CHAPTER!! Tommy just needed to be sad for a little bit longer,,,, 
> 
> Tw: scars, references to severe abuse and violence, PTSD, reference to firearms
> 
> (Also the scenes with Phil and Niki are literally ripped straight out of the first AFTG book. Nora please don't sue me)

Tommy had four days before the rest of the team moved in, then he would have three more free days until they started daily practice.

Those first days mostly passed in a blur of paperwork. Phil said the process was going to be much more extensive since Tommy didn’t have a birth certificate or ID, but it was still doable.

As they went through the forms, Tommy slowly formulated a backstory for himself. Theseus was a boy tormented by Dream, isolated at Logstedshire for his entire life, but Tommy was just a kid who had run away from two shitty parents and had been living on the street for years before he got caught stealing and signed with Phil. He never told Phil the exact details of this fabricated life, but he implied it enough as Phil jotted down information that the man probably assumed it to secretly be the truth. Tommy would just have to make sure to keep it that way.

Between Tommy and the rest of the start-of-the-season preparation, Phil and Wilbur were busy, working in their offices most of the time. Apparently Phil was the manager, and dealt with the business side of the team, and Wilbur was the coach, which meant he focused more on players, practice, and strategy. All Tommy knew that was for most of the day, they both were shut up in their offices filling out paperwork or taking calls. Meanwhile, Tommy realized that he had missed a few side doors in the main hall when he had first entered the building. One door was locked, but according to Phil it was a storage room for all the team’s equipment and supplies. The other door was more exciting; it opened up into a room that held a semicircle of comfy couches and armchairs surrounding a television. It was for watching game footage, according to Wilbur. But it was more personal than that; there was a small kitchenette built into one of the walls, and one of the corners of the room was filled with drugstore-printed photos. When he wasn't watching TV, Tommy spent a good chunk of time inspecting them, and he managed to count six players aside from himself. They looked… interesting. And by interesting Tommy meant weird as shit.

There was a small boy with fluffy brown hair and burn scars that webbed over the skin of one side of his face, continuing down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. In every picture, he was with a man with darker hair, who always seemed to have the same beanie on. None of these people seemed to mix up their wardrobes much; there was an incredibly tall person who wore sunglasses in every picture, and a boy who always wore sunglasses  _ and  _ a weird black-and-white mask. Speaking of weird wardrobe choices, there was one man with a shock of artificially bright orange hair, and another with long, sleek pink hair. The last guy wasn’t in many pictures, and he wasn’t smiling in any of them. The rest of them seemed pretty happy though, smiling and laughing in every photo pasted on the wall. Even Sunglasses NoMask McGee, who seemed to hang back a little more, wore a warm smirk in each image they were in. 

Just past the sitting room were the locker rooms, which held the bathrooms Tommy had been taking much-needed showers in. When Wilbur had led Tommy to them for the first time, Tommy was terrified of the image in his head of an open, multi-person shower room. He wasn’t going to let anyone see the mess of scar tissue that was his torso, but Tommy wasn’t sure how he was going to manage that. But he was surprised to see that each shower had its own stall, walled floor to ceiling with an actual door that locked. Tommy glanced between the showers and Wilbur in confusion.

“Phil runs the Foxes like some sort of rehab program,” Wilbur explained, “so he knows that privacy is important to his players. He was willing to spend some extra money to get these showers put in.” Tommy fought back a sigh of relief. Well, that was one less thing to worry about.

Tommy, Phil, and Wilbur took their meals in that cozy sitting room. That was one of the only times Tommy saw either of them leave their offices all day. Phil and Wilbur always did the cooking, waving off any attempts Tommy made to help. That was probably for the best. Tommy had never cooked before and when he offered was just planning on winging it, which probably would have turned out horribly. The men had chuckled good-naturedly when Tommy complimented the food on his first full day with them.

“It’s a microwave meal,” Wilbur laughed, “but thanks, kid.”

“‘m not a kid,” Tommy mumbled, but Phil and Wilbur just ignored him.

Wilbur left to sleep at home every night after dinner. Apparently he shared a house down the street with Phil and Techno, the pink-haired guy from the photos who apparently was one of the goalies. But Phil stuck with the sleeping arrangement from the first night: Tommy on the track, and Phil in the hallway outside.

Tommy had been right, Phil’s gentleness the first night had at least partially been an act to soothe a panicking Tommy. Phil wasn’t afraid to swear, and he would shout and curse at Wilbur sometimes. It made Tommy tense, but somehow Wilbur laughed and brushed it off like it was nothing. And at the next meal, the two would be talking like everything was normal. Tommy didn’t know what to make of it.

Tommy had only been on the receiving end of that once.

The exertion of the day Tommy had first entered the stadium had made his legs horribly sore. The day after Phil had seen Tommy running in the middle of that first night, he had gently lectured Tommy over breakfast. Phil told Tommy not to run until he was fully healed. He didn’t want Tommy to get injured permanently, especially with practices coming so soon. Tommy had agreed.

But he couldn’t sleep without running at least a little bit during the day. He had never been able to. Tommy needed to feel the rhythm of his feet pounding against the track, just a taste of it, or he would go crazy. Phil didn’t have to know.

During his second-to-last night in the stadium before everyone moved into the apartments, Tommy finally had that panic attack he had fought down in front of Phil on his first night. Thoughts of Dream and Logstedshire and heated metal held to his open skin consumed his mind for who knows how long before Tommy’s heart rate settled back down and he could actually tell where he was again.

That night, Tommy had run until he collapsed, just barely managing to haul himself to his pile of blankets before passing out.

He was barely able to walk the next morning, but Tommy managed to make it to the sitting room without help, taking the bowl of cereal on the center table that Phil indicated was for Tommy. Phil and Wilbur in the kitchenette, cooking something judging by the smell. By the time Tommy finished eating, he had forgotten about his legs, and his knees refused to support his weight as he got up too quickly.

Tommy collapsed, the ceramic bowl slipping from his hands and shattering below him. Tommy’s hands landed directly on the shards, and he hissed as he could feel his palms start to bleed.

“Wil,” Phil said, his voice frighteningly quiet, “call Niki.” Phil had told Tommy that Niki was the team’s nurse. At first, Tommy wondered if she was here to fix the bowl. That would be dumb. Then he spotted the blood pooling on the floor under his hands. Was she here for him? That was a waste of time. Tommy had patched up worse injuries than this on his own. He could take care of himself.

“On it,” Wilbur said before Tommy could protest, rushing into the hall as he dialed.

It was just Tommy and Phil now.

“Did you blow your legs out running last night?” Phil asked as Tommy carefully rolled off the ceramic pieces and got unsteadily to his feet, grunting in pain. He couldn’t look at his hands, and he couldn’t look Phil in the eye, so he settled with looking at a point on Phil’s chest.

Tommy hesitated, then nodded. Phil stalked toward Tommy with a snarled, “You idiot.” 

Retreating from a furious older man was so instinctive Tommy didn’t realize he’d flinched until Phil froze. Phil’s face went almost dangerously blank and Tommy dropped his gaze. He was careful not to look away from Phil entirely. He needed to see when Phil started moving again. He waited for Phil to say something. After an endless, brittle silence, he realized Phil wouldn’t speak until he did.

“Last night was my mistake,” Tommy said quietly. “It won’t happen a second time.”

Phil didn’t answer. He didn’t come closer, either. At length he pointed at the ground in front of him. “Come here. No,” he said when Tommy started to reach for the mess at his feet, “Leave it.” 

Tommy stepped over it and went to stand in front of Phil: within arm’s reach but just barely. He’d perfected that trick as a kid. He could just glance at Dream’s arms and judge the safe distance from him in a heartbeat. If he had to move to hit him, Tommy had enough time to dodge. Either way he wouldn’t catch the full intended force of Dream’s blow. Apparently the skill transferred to other people, too.

“Look at me,” Phil said, “Right now.”

Tommy dragged his stare up from Phil’s chest to his face. Phil’s expression was still too blank for Tommy to feel safe, but he knew better than to look away again.

“I want you to understand something,” Phil said. “I am a loud, grouchy old man. I like to yell and throw things. But I don’t throw punches unless some punk is dumb enough to try me first. I have never, ever hit someone without provocation, and I’m sure as hell not going to start with you. You hear me?”

Tommy didn’t believe him, but he said, “Yes, Phil.”

“I’m serious,” Phil said. “Don’t you dare be more afraid of me than you are of whatever the fuck you went through before you got here.”

Tommy could have told him that it was Phil’s age that made him such a problem, but he didn’t think Phil wanted to hear it. There was no solution to that problem. “Yes, Phil.”

Wilbur chose that moment to poke his head into the room and nod towards the front door.

“Niki just got here, she’ll be in her office and can get you all checked out, Tommy,” Wilbur said.

Tommy wiped the blood dripping from his hands on his pants absent-mindedly, ignoring the startled look the gesture prompted on Wilbur’s face. Tommy had plenty of practice scrubbing blood out of clothes. When he lived at Logstedshire Dream had only let him have the outfit he was wearing. The guy had taken “you don’t deserve your own things” pretty damn seriously. If a piece of Tommy’s outfit got destroyed beyond mending, Dream would give Tommy a new, identical version of that one piece, burning the tattered cloth that was replaced. Phil had looked a little angry when Tommy had mentioned that he didn’t even have clothes to pick up from anywhere for his move-in. Tommy figured he was frustrated by the hassle of getting Tommy something more presentable to wear. But Phil had still provided him with the blue and red L’Manburg Foxes sweats he had on right now. These clothes were pristine otherwise, if they ended up with a little blood stained into them Tommy didn’t mind. It was still better than he was used to.

Tommy brushed past Wilbur on shaky legs, slowly stumbling his way into Niki’s office.

~~~

It was weird seeing the nurse’s office with the nurse actually  _ in  _ it after seeing it empty for so long. But Niki navigated the room so naturally Tommy wondered how he had ever seen the office as anything but an empty husk without Niki’s gentle presence. He hated the pink hair, though. Why was he the only person on this team who could dress like a normal person?

_ Says the guy who has only ever had one outfit, _ Tommy’s brain whispered.

_ Shut up, me, _ Tommy thought back.

Niki briskly navigated Tommy to sit on the cot as soon as he entered. She cleaned and wrapped his wounds with efficiency that impressed even Tommy. The damage wasn’t as bad as Tommy had thought, which was a small relief.

As soon as the last bandage was fixed in place, Niki finally spoke.

“You feeling alright?”

Tommy blinked. He wasn’t expecting that question. “Uh… yeah?” he said. Niki smiled.

“I’m glad,” she said, turning around and going to the metal cabinet and unlocking it with a key she fished out of her pocket. “While you’re here, do you want to get your physical out of the way before everyone else gets here and my schedule gets absolutely swamped?” She spoke good-naturedly, but Tommy couldn’t help but tense.

“Physical?”

“Just a general check-up: weight, height, all that good stuff. Also a little bit of blood work. When’s the last time you saw a doctor?”

“A long time ago,” Tommy lied. He had a feeling that the truth of “never” wouldn’t go over well with Niki.

“Don’t like doctors?”

“Doctors don’t like me,” Tommy joked, laughing weakly. Niki didn’t laugh, though. Tommy’s mouth quirked. Rude. 

“Is it necessary?” he asked. He didn’t like the idea of being poked and prodded at by a stranger. He still didn’t even like being touched by Wilbur or Phil.

“You’re not playing until I sign off on you, so yes,” Niki said, opening the cabinet and beginning to unload equipment that she must have locked up during the break. Tommy spotted a scale, a stethoscope, and one of those weird sticks doctors use to see how tall you are. Nothing too invasive. Tommy got to his feet when Niki gestured at the scale. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

The first part of Niki’s test was easy like she’d said it would be. He weighed in and let her run through a series of tests from reflexes to blood pressure. She took two vials of blood from his left arm, labeled them, and locked them in a drawer. Then she motioned at him and said, “Shirt off.”

Tommy stared at her. “Why?”

“I can’t check track marks through cotton, Tommy.”

Tommy blinked. “I don’t do drugs.” Tommy cursed the fact that his new team was some sort of weird halfway-house where this was necessary.

“Good on you,” Niki said. “Keep it that way. Now take it off.”

Tommy looked past her at the closed door and said nothing. Niki looked at him and said nothing either. After five minutes of this, she was the first to give up. “I want to make this as painless as possible, but I can’t help you if you can’t help me. Tell me why you won’t take off your shirt.”

Tommy looked for a delicate way to say it. The best he managed was, “I’m not okay.”

She put a finger to his chin and turned his face back toward her. “Tommy, I work for the Foxes. None of you are okay. Chances are I’ve seen a lot worse than whatever it is you’re trying to hide from me.

Tommy’s smile was humorless. “I hope not.”

“Trust me,” Niki said, “I’m not going to judge you. I’m here to help, remember? I’m your nurse now. That door is closed, and it comes with a lock. What happens in here stays in here.”

“You won’t tell Phil?”

“This isn’t his business,” Niki said, gesturing between them with her free hand. “I only report to him if I think it’ll affect your performance on the court or if you’re breaking the law and I need an intervention.”

Tommy stared at her, wondering if he could believe her and knowing he didn’t have a choice. His skin was already crawling in anticipation of her reaction. “You can’t ask me about them,” he said at last. “I won’t talk to you about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Niki agreed easily. “But know that if and when you want to, I’m here, and so is Phil.”

Tommy wasn’t going to tell either of them a thing, but he nodded. Niki dropped her hand, and Tommy pulled his sweatshirt over his head before he could lose his nerve.

Niki thought she was ready. Tommy knew she wouldn’t be, and he was right. Her mouth parted on a silent breath and her expression went blank. She wasn’t fast enough to hide her flinch, and Tommy saw her shoulders go rigid with tension. He stared at her face as she stared at him, watching her gaze sweep over the brutal marks of a hideous childhood.

It started at the base of his throat, a looping scar curving down his collarbone. A pucker with jagged edges was a finger-width away, courtesy of the one time Tommy hadn’t heeded one of the warning shots Dream would sometimes fire in Tommy’s direction with his pistol if he was particularly pissed off. A shapeless patch of pale skin from his left shoulder to his navel marked where Dream had dragged him by the hair from the Logstedshire house to the tent outside, scraping Tommy’s abdomen raw on the sharp rocks and sticks that littered the ground. Faded scars criss crossed here and there, a few of them from stupid accidents, but most of them from Dream’s knives. Along his abdomen were larger overlapping lines from Dream’s weapon of choice: a cleaver.

And right there on his shoulder was the perfect outline of half a hot iron. Tommy didn’t remember what he’d said or done to irritate his father so much. All he knew was that from then on, every time Dream got out the iron while doing his laundry, Tommy couldn’t relax until it was put away again. At least Tommy didn’t have to handle it himself. Dream only let him wash his one outfit out in the river nearby. It sucked, especially when it got cold. Tommy had taken about an hour to figure out the washing machines here in the stadium, but he was grateful for them. He sure as hell  _ wasn’t  _ grateful for this nosey nurse staring at his scars with poorly-concealed horror.

Tommy twisted his hands in his shirt and lifted his arms, baring her forearms to her. “Do I have track marks?”

“Tommy,” Niki said softly.

“Do I or don’t I?”

Niki’s mouth thinned to a hard line as she forcibly redirected her attention back to his physical. The second she gave him the okay to put his shirt on again, Tommy yanked it over his head. Niki filled out the rest of her forms in silence.

“We’re done,” Niki said. “Tommy--”

“No.” Tommy leapt to his feet and escaped her office as quickly as he could. He let the door slam shut behind him and went back out into the arena. Tommy needed to run, burning muscles be damned. Tommy couldn’t face anyone else today, he would just wait for Wilbur to leave and Phil to fall asleep and raid the kitchenette for food.

Tommy tried not to think about the fact that his new teammates would all be moving in tomorrow. Meeting three people who weren’t Dream was already a lot for Tommy to handle, he didn’t know how he would deal with a whole team of them. He was ready to get out of this stadium, though. It would be easier to avoid Niki for the entirety of his time with the Foxes if Tommy wasn’t in the same building as her for the majority of his day.

Phil poked his head in at the end of the day, just like he had every night to check on Tommy. But before he could say anything, Tommy shouted up to him.

“I’m good,” he snapped, “‘night.”

“...Goodnight,” Phil said, confusion in his voice at Tommy’s clipped tone, but at least  _ he _ didn’t pry. Phil turned out the floodlight, but it was a bit before Tommy fell asleep. He was haunted by the horror in Niki’s eyes when she looked at him. Tommy saw her face painted on the back of his eyelids as he sat there awake, and it followed Tommy into his dreams when sleep finally claimed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy meets (most of) his team. One of them makes a bad first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a struggle, I SUCK at character introductions. If I missed out on any errors, feel free to let me know!!  
> (Also, for future reference, pronouns for Eret will switch between chapters, but not within the same chapter.)  
> ~~  
> tw: panic attack, PTSD, reference to firearms, reference to abuse/violence

Tommy gave himself two minutes the next morning to first remember how to breathe and then to swallow down the dread that welled up in his throat and threatened to choke him. That was Tommy’s morning ritual, even while living with Dream. He couldn’t lay in bed forever, but he afforded himself those two minutes to steel himself enough to face his day. And Tommy needed to prepare himself to meet his new team today.

After his breathing had steadied, Tommy got up and folded his blankets. He did cleaning pretty often back at Logstedshire, so he was well-practiced in folding and the task was done sooner than Tommy expected. He heaved the pile up into his arms and lugged it up the stairs and into the hallway.

Phil was there, having just woken up judging by the mess of his hair. He took the blankets, thanking Tommy, and headed towards the sitting room door. Tommy assumed he was going to drop the blankets in the small laundry room in that part of the building.

“Wilbur’s out front,” Phil called over his shoulder. “He’ll show you over to the apartments. If you need anything, let me know.”

Tommy nodded. “Thanks.” He paused. “For everything.”

Phil didn’t respond, and the door closed behind him. Tommy sighed and went to go out the front, but froze mid-step when he saw a flash of pink hair outside the office doors.

But Niki just smiled at Tommy with no hesitation. “Good morning, Tommy,” she said. If Tommy didn’t know better, he would think that Niki had completely forgotten about the events of the day before.

“Uh….. mornin’,'' Tommy mumbled. He couldn’t push down his discomfort like her, and he cringed at the tension in his voice. The way Niki was looking at him made Tommy’s scars burn under his sweatshirt, and he left without another word.

Wilbur was outside, leaning easily against the wall of the stadium with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He tossed it toward Tommy as soon as the boy was out the doors.

But all Tommy saw was something flying towards him, and for a second he was back in Logstedshire and he had been too loud or left a mess and Dream was throwing something at him. His arms shot up as he flinched instinctually, and the bag fell at his feet with a thump. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy saw Wilbur freeze. A pause hung in the air for a moment, neither of them moving, before Tommy bent down to pick up the bag. He didn’t look at Wilbur; he didn’t think he could.

“That’s… uh… your stuff,” Wilbur said. “I mean, not your stuff, but some sweats Phil said to give to you.” He seemed just as uncomfortable as Tommy was. Tommy said nothing, just looking down the street to where he imagined the apartment block might be, pointedly not looking at his coach.

“Oh, uh, yeah, let me get you down to the apartments. Our team captain will take it from there,” Wilbur said. He headed down the street, not even looking back at Tommy to make sure he was following.

The apartment building was apparently just around the corner, and Tommy’s gait stuttered for a moment when he saw the  _ impossibly  _ tall person standing out front.

“Eret!” Wilbur called, and as the person turned, Tommy realized that he knew her beyond just recognizing her from the photos in the sitting room.

Tommy didn’t know Eret personally, of course. But he recognized her from televised Exy matches. Two seasons ago, Eret joined Dream’s favorite team, the SMP Ravens. Eret had transferred from some smaller team, apparently. She wasn’t with the Ravens for long, though. Her talent was remarkable, but she disappeared midway through last season. The Ravens reported that she had suffered an eye injury, damaging her vision and rendering her unable to play.

She had been the one who stood apart in photos who Tommy had noticed wore sunglasses in every photo. She still had them on now. Eret hadn’t worn the sunglasses when she played for the Ravens, so it took seeing her in person and referenced by name for Tommy to recognize her. But what was she doing with the Foxes if she was apparently too injured to play Exy?

Eret turned and smiled at Wilbur. Tommy was impressed by how easily she moved given the massive platform boots she wore.

“Wilbur!” she called happily, “Good to see you, man! And you must be Tommy.” She turned to Tommy, and he had to bite down his questions. “Theseus” recognized Eret, but “Tommy” knew nothing about Exy. He would just have to play dumb to keep up his persona.

“Uh… ‘ow do?” Tommy greeted with a chuckle. Eret smiled down from her frankly semi-threatening height.

“Doin’ well. You can call me Eret, I’m the team captain. I’ll help you get used to Exy, and Phil has also tasked me with taking you out to buy some clothes.” Eret held up her hand at Tommy’s spluttered objections. “Don’t try and fight me on this, it’s happening. You can’t just wear sweats every day, and it’s covered as a necessary team expense. Just be glad I’m the one taking you and it’s not, like, Quackity or something. That man can’t dress for  _ shit _ ,” Eret bent down and picked up the pile of bags sitting at her feet. Tommy felt embarrassed by his single, small bag in comparison to Eret’s incredibly bulky load, but she didn’t give it a second glance.

Eret nodded at Wilbur. “Alright Wilbur,” she said, “I’ll take it from here. Go get some rest.” The two said their goodbyes and Wilbur headed back toward the stadium. Tommy tensed, suddenly alone with Eret.

To Eret’s credit, she clearly was trying to make herself as non-threatening as possible for a seven-foot-tall Exy legend. She smiled gently at Tommy and shifted her bags enough to be able to hold open the door, gesturing Tommy inside. He took a deep breath and walked into the dimly-lit entryway.

The apartment building wasn’t overly grand, but Tommy was still impressed. When he walked in, Tommy was greeted with a fluorescent-lit hall that looked oddly sterile given the white walls paired with the white linoleum floor. There were three numbered doors on the first floor, and up the stairs to Tommy’s left was a small landing with a numbered door on either side.

Tommy had hoped the building would be empty, but it looked like most of the team had gotten here already, and suddenly three pairs of eyes were boring into him.

On the stairs, lugging up a few bags together, were the two people who had been attached at the hip in the pictures Tommy had looked at. The smaller boy with burns on his face smiled excitedly at Tommy, but the darker-haired man in the beanie behind him glanced at Tommy warily.

Just past those two, the door at the end of the hall was open, and the boy with the bicolor mask and sunglasses was leaning casually against it. Tommy didn’t like not being able to see his expression.

“Are you Tommy?” the younger boy on the steps asked. Tommy nodded uneasily; he didn’t like how all these people already knew him. Phil or Wilbur had probably debriefed them beforehand.

The boy abandoned his bags on the steps, dashing down to stand in front of Tommy. The man behind him followed suit, but with worried eyes trained on Tubbo instead of Tommy. Once they both reached the bottom of the stairs, the older of the two stood a few feet back, glancing between Tommy and Tubbo with eagle-sharp eyes.

“I’m Tubbo!” the younger boy said to Tommy, smiling up at him eagerly. Tommy’s mouth grimaced into an uneasy, forced smile. But Tubbo didn’t seem to notice, gesturing behind him excitedly. “That’s Quackity.” The man in the beanie nodded. “And that’s Ranboo!” The boy at the end of the hall was scribbling frantically in a book, waving up at Tommy absently. Tommy fought down a scoff. What was up with these stupid names?

“Writing in your diary about how handsome I am?” Tommy called to the masked boy at the end of the hall, teasing in an attempt to light the mood.

Ranboo didn’t laugh, though, he just kept writing. “Nah, just taking notes in my memory book” he said, his voice distant. “Got some memory issues, so when I meet new people I take a few notes in case I need a reminder.”

“Whoa!” Quackity exclaimed, not looking away from Tubbo or Tommy. “You’re really coming out swinging with the big stuff for this new guy, Ranboo.”

Ranboo shrugged as he snapped his book shut. “Meh. You all know, and he would have found out eventually. Nice to meet you, Tommy.” Ranboo nodded before closing his door.

“Ranboo’s the third striker on top of you and me,” Tubbo explained excitedly. Tommy took a moment to do some mental math, and his numbers didn’t add up. Tommy may not have been good at math, but he was pretty confident that he could at least count to three.

“How’d you guys play last season, then?” Tommy asked. “Two strikers the whole game wouldn’t work. No one would be able to swap out and you would get all tired and shit.” The enthusiastic air in the room was gone in an instant.

“We, uh,” Eret said, “just had a couple of seasons off.” Tommy opened his mouth to ask another question, but Eret interrupted. “You’re room’s upstairs,” she continued. “Go ahead and follow Tubbo and Quackity up, I’ll help you get settled.”

Tubbo smiled, a little more forcefully than before Tommy had asked about their player count, and got his things from where they had been abandoned on the steps. Quackity followed, close on Tubbo’s heels.

“You’ll hate these stairs after practice. Eret runs us into the ground,” Quackity called over his shoulder. The tension in his shoulders when he first watched Tubbo talking to Tommy seemed to have evaporated, and Tommy almost wondered if he had imagined it. Almost.

Eret laughed off Quackity’s taunt, leading Tommy to the right of the landing while Tubbo and Quackity disappeared through the door to the left. Tubbo flashed Tommy a wave before letting the door shut, and Tommy returned it, albeit in a much smaller version.

All of a sudden, there was cold metal against Tommy’s palm, and he looked down to see the key that Eret was pressing into Tommy’s hand. His hand fisted around it, and Tommy savored the feeling of the teeth biting against his knuckles. Growing up, keys had only been for Dream. Sometimes the two guys Dream would invite over had a key for the front door too, Tommy supposed. Tommy didn’t consider them to be people he knew, though. They were just friends of his father. Tommy had never liked them much, even as a kid, and he tried to stay out of their way when they used to come over to talk with Dream.

But now, here Tommy was, holding a key to a room that was about to be his for as long as he stayed with the Foxes. Tommy swallowed down the hope rising in his chest. The thought of Dream had sobered him. He couldn’t let himself feel attached to this life. If he did, his return to Logstedshire would be even more painful than it already had to be.

But at Eret’s encouraging nod, Tommy let himself reach up and unlock the door of apartment 202.

Tommy had only taken a few steps into the room, barely able to process it, before an ear-splitting bang made Tommy’s heart stop.

Tommy’s brain started operating on two different levels. The superficial outer part of his mind took in the room, noticing the window open onto the fire escape and the orange-haired man holding a used party popper.

“Welcome home, new kid,” the man said, letting out a vulpine laugh before he skittered out of the room and down the stairs.

“Fundy--” Eret called at the man’s back, going to follow him but stopping and turning back to Tommy as the boy’s breathing quickened into a wheeze.

The deeper part of Tommy’s mind, the primal, instinctive part that at the moment was making Tommy press his back against the wall and hold his arms up to protect his face, only saw Dream. Tommy had spoken without permission, or eaten without permission, or looked at Dream without permission, and the man fired his pistol in Tommy’s direction. Just a warning shot, he always said. The bullet scar in Tommy’s shoulder ached.

Tommy told himself that Dream wasn’t here, but his brain retorted that his father was here and was about to shoot him. When a hand landed on his shoulder, Tommy launched himself backwards, staggering to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whined between gasps. “I’ll do better. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” Begging had never stopped Dream from hitting or slicing into Tommy before, but for some reason the person in front of Tommy hadn’t lunged toward him yet. Instead, it sounded like she had shifted to sit on the floor across from Tommy and was telling him to breathe.

It felt like it took hours, but Tommy finally evened out his breathing and looked up.

Eret was sitting cross-legged, facing Tommy. Her eyebrows were knit in concern.

“Can I touch you?” she asked. Tommy hesitated, then nodded. He had held himself after a panic attack more times than he could count. He was ready to see what it felt like to let another person do it.

Eret slid over to Tommy, heaving the boy into her lap and holding him against her chest. She shushed Tommy, murmuring reassurances into his hair, and Tommy realized he was crying.

Dream had never touched him like this, his arms had always felt tight and constraining even when he was supposed to be comforting Tommy, and Wilbur and Phil had never offered. They accidentally brushed against Tommy a few times when passing him in the hall or giving something to him, but that was it. An intentional benign touch was foreign to Tommy, let alone being cradled like this with a hand carding through his hair.

“Wanna talk about it?” Eret asked. Tommy opened his mouth automatically, used to Dream’s commands masked as questions, but then remembered the way that Phil had offered him things and smiled easily at Tommy’s refusals. Tommy  _ really _ didn’t want to talk about Dream, especially not with this near-stranger, and he decided to roll the dice on whether or not Eret would be angry at a refusal. Tommy shook his head.

“That’s alright,” Eret said easily, and Tommy let out a sigh of relief. “That was Fundy. He likes pulling pranks, but doesn’t really have a concept of boundaries. I’ll have a talk with him. Nothing specific,” Eret added quickly, “but just remind him to reign it in, especially with a new guy around.”

Tommy nodded and sniffled, taking a shuddering breath.

“Let’s get you laid down, hm? Eret asked. Tommy nodded again, and let Eret help him to his feet.

Tommy dimly took in the room around him. There was a twin bed tucked in the corner, a dresser with a mirror against one wall, and a small desk below a window. It looked like there was a closet and bathroom built into one of the walls, too. It was nice.

Eret supported Tommy’s weight as the two made their way to the bed. Eret pulled the sheets aside for Tommy and tucked him in with a tenderness that tore another sob out of Tommy’s throat.

Eret gently scratched Tommy’s hairline. “Get some rest, Tommy,” she murmured. “I’ve got a skeleton key, I’ll get your door locked and your window closed. We’ll worry about shopping tomorrow, okay?” 

Tommy mumbled incoherent agreement, and he fell into a nap to the sound of Eret locking his window and his door. Leaving this place and going back to his father was already going to hurt, so Tommy tried not to let himself feel safe here.

Emphasis on  _ tried _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Tommy and Tubbo as strangers feels sacrilegious  
> ALSO DON'T GET MAD AT FUNDY HE'S NOT A BAD PERSON HE'S JUST KINDA DUMB  
> ~~  
> Don't forget to leave kudos and/or comments if you enjoyed!! They fuel me to do things like publish this chapter at midnight ;0


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TIME POG!! EXPOSITION POG!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a hot sec since I updated! I've been dealing w health issues and things. Hope you enjoy this exposition dump courtesy of everyone's favorite team captain! ALSO RANBOO TIME!!  
> ~~  
> tw: panic, memory loss, scars, past gaslighting/manipulation, past torture, past abuse, reference to firearms

Tommy jolted awake when he heard a faint shuffle somewhere outside his room. Adrenaline instantly shot through his body. Tommy automatically leapt to his feet. And listened. He heard a door close somewhere below him. This wasn’t the first time Tommy had had to sprung into action straight out of sleep like this. He was well-practiced at waking up quickly from the nights when he would hear Dream angrily slam the door shut on the nights he would come home late. Tommy’s speed didn’t always protect him, but it had allowed him to hide from a pissed-off Dream looking for a punching bag a few times.

He hadn’t had clocks at Logstedshire. Dream had only had a single clock he kept in his own bag. He would check it occasionally, never letting Tommy catch a glimpse of the face. Tommy didn’t even look for one in this new room, he just went to the window and glanced through the curtains and judged by the position of the moon that it was, in scientific terms, late as shit.

Tommy backed away from the window, standing in the middle of the room and biting at the side of his thumb. Dream had hated that habit, Tommy thought bitingly, but he wasn’t here to stop him, was he?

Tommy froze when he heard the shuffle again.

Dream wasn’t here… was he?

Before Tommy knew it, he was slowly opening the door, praying the hinges didn’t squeak like the ones at Logstedshire had. Tommy knew Dream wasn’t here, but in his head he couldn’t stop seeing Dream kicking down the door of Tommy’s new comfy room and dragging him by the hair kicking and streaming back to Logstedshire. Tommy just needed to see that it wasn’t Dream, then he could go back to bed. He just had to make sure.

Tommy let the door latch behind him as quietly as he could. He padded across the landing and peered over the railing.

A familiar head of light brown hair stood in the entryway. The moonlight spilling through the front windows flashed against a familiar pair of sunglasses that stared up at Tommy.

Ranboo tilted his head, and before Tommy could call anything down to him, he spoke.

“...Dream?” Ranboo said.

Tommy’s heart froze in his chest. He couldn’t move, and he could feel his hands start to shake. Before he could think, Tommy stomped down the stairs, making a bee-line straight for Ranboo.

He grabbed the collar of the boy’s t-shirt and shoved him into the wall with a loud  _ thud _ . Ranboo’s eyebrows knotted and he began scrabbling at Tommy’s wrists.

“Dream?” he said weakly, and Tommy’s grip tightened. “Oh…” Ranboo whispered. “You’re not… I’m sorry, I… You look like someone I know…”

Tommy’s grip slackened, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Did he really look like his father? And how would Ranboo know that?

Tommy shook the thoughts out of his head and slammed Ranboo into the wall again. Ranboo whimpered.

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you saying?”

“I’m sorry I… I don’t…” Ranboo whined. His voice was thick, like he was going to cry.

Tommy was saved from having to respond by the door beside him opening.

Eret padded into the hall, a good chunk of their height gone thanks to their now-bare feet. They rubbed their eyes and began to yawn, but froze when they saw Tommy pinning a trembling Ranboo to the wall.

“Whoa, hey, it’s alright man,” Eret said to Tommy. Tommy finally released Ranboo, who didn’t move, and turned to face Eret.

“What the  _ fuck _ is he talking about?” Tommy snarled, but Eret ignored him, gently pushing him backwards, keeping their gaze trained on Ranboo. Both of them still had their sunglasses on in the middle of the night. Weirdos.

“Are you okay?” Eret asked. Ranboo took a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where I am,” Ranboo whispered. “I can’t find my friend, I’m sorry for whatever I did, I… I’m lost.”

“Ok,” Eret said, “just breathe for me.” Ranboo was gasping shallow breaths through sobs, and Eret glanced toward Ranboo's room before calling over their shoulder to Tommy. “Tommy, go in his room and get the notebook on the table to the right as you walk in.” Tommy opened his mouth, a swear on his tongue, before Eret cut him off. “And don’t you  _ dare _ try and argue with me right now.”

Tommy grunted, leaving Eret to murmur reassurances to Ranboo.

Ranboo’s room was dark, but Tommy could tell that it was a near perfect copy of his, with the exact same barren furniture. Ranboo’s sheets were a tangled mess, though. And like Eret said, there was a leather-bound journal on a small table to Tommy’s right. He recognized it as the one that Ranboo had been taking notes in when Tommy had first arrived. He idly considered flipping through, but realized that he honestly just didn’t care enough to waste the time on it. He brought the journal out to Eret and Ranboo, the latter of whom had calmed down a bit. Eret took the journal from Tommy without looking away from Ranboo, and handed it straight to him. Ranboo took it gratefully, and immediately set to flipping through it.

The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly, but Eret shot Tommy a glare each time he opened his mouth to complain. Eventually, Ranboo peered over his journal at Eret, who smiled warmly.

“Hey, man,” they said. “You back with me?”

Ranboo slowly nodded. “Yeah, I… I remember now.” He looked to Tommy, who squirmed uncomfortably. “Eret, can you tell Tommy about the stuff in here? I’d prefer if he was able to answer my questions next time I have an episode instead of slamming me into a wall.”

“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled.

“Are you sure?” Eret asked, eyebrows raising.

Ranboo shrugged. “He’s a Fox, right? Everyone else knows, Tommy might as well too. If you want to hold anything back do it, but I’m okay with him knowing it all. May make next time I see him during an episode a little less terrible.” He slid a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes. “Gonna head to sleep now.” Without a word, Ranboo went back to his room and closed the door.

“Okay, what the fuck,” Tommy said.

Ranboo heaved a heavy sigh. “Ranboo has memory problems,” Eret said. “Sometimes he forgets little things from a few minutes ago, but sometimes he forgets entire  _ years _ of his life.”

“Which he said for you to tell me about?” prompted Tommy. “Why-- Who the hell is Dream?” Tommy had to fight back asking directly about Dream. Playing dumb was  _ painful _ , but he had no other choice.

“Dream is…” Eret trailed off and laughed bitterly. “I'll cut to the chase. Dream is a piece of human garbage. Ranboo and I have both had some… nasty run-ins with him. Do you know about the Exy team named the SMP Ravens?”

Tommy bit down a “yes” and shook his head.

“They’re the team that has won championships for the past five years, which is absolutely unheard of,” Eret continued. “And Dream, as far as the public knows, is just their hermit manager who never gets any media coverage. But behind the scenes, the Ravens aren’t, uh, the  _ best _ people in the world.

“I’m not proud of it, but I went to Dream and asked to try out for the Ravens when I first started playing Exy. Instead, he gave me an offer: Go fill the position of L’Manburg Fox team captain and tell opposing teams all our plays so that the Foxes wouldn’t ever even qualify for championships. I could play with the Ravens once I had ‘proved myself,’” Eret sarcastically added air quotes, “whatever that meant.

“One time I forgot to log out of my e-mail on Phil’s computer. When he found out what I had been doing, he understandably fired me. I went back to Dream, and he just told me that I had lasted longer than he thought I would, and he brought me on as a player for the Ravens. The Foxes couldn’t play without me, they didn’t have the numbers, so they took those seasons off.

“I realized that Dream, on top of his manager pay, has this shady group that gets money through some sort of convoluted gambling ring that goes way over my head. But I  _ do  _ know that it’s not legal. Dream is willing to do anything to keep it running and lucrative. Even violence.”

Tommy felt like he was going to be sick.

Eret didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t know how long Ranboo was with the Ravens, he never told me. I don’t think that he even remembers his time before he worked for Dream, honestly. Dream…. Let’s just say he didn’t like to get his hands dirty. He would tell Ranboo that they were colleagues, and Ranboo would believe him. He didn’t remember any different. Then, if Dream had to, ah… hurt someone, he would ask Ranboo to do it. Ranboo would follow orders, then become overwhelmingly guilty, but Dream would insist that he forget it. Whether it was the trauma or something else, Ranboo would always forget what he had done. Then the cycle would repeat itself.”

Tommy dimly thought of Dream’s cleavers, the pistol, the iron. Clearly the man wasn’t afraid of violence. Tommy had a suspicion that this was more about control than a fear of blood.

Eret reached up and removed their glasses. To Tommy’s surprise, their eyes were perfectly sharp as they looked at him. But their apparently fully-functional eyes were ringed by a mess of scar tissue. Tommy attempted to fake shock. The boy with his imagined history would be shocked by the sight, but on the inside, Theseus was used to scars.

Eret continued. “One time Dream wanted to pull off some move to sneakily break a player’s ankle. I was one of the main players on the team, so I was enlisted. But when it got down to it, I just couldn’t do it. Dream didn’t like that, of course. He took me to this shed somewhere around the Raven’s stadium. I’m still not sure where it was, and honestly I don’t care to go back and find out. He brought Ranboo in and, well, this happened.” Eret gestured at their eyes. “Dream was threatening to take out my eyes completely. Ranboo was crying. It sounded like they had something nasty planned for the next day, too, but before that could happen Phil showed up and kicked down the door. Apparently Ranboo had contacted him.”

Dream had always hated it when Tommy asked questions, but he couldn’t help himself. “How’d Ranboo end up on the Foxes, then?” he asked.

Eret just smiled bitterly. “After Phil saved me and Niki stitched me back up, Phil told me that I was welcome back. I didn’t expect to be, and I think I’m still gaining trust back from some of the Foxes, but Phil understood the way Dream had tricked and manipulated me. But there was a condition: Ranboo, who I only knew then as the guy who had tortured me, was also going to join.” Eret laughed. “I thought I was going to kill Phil when he told me that.”

Tommy glanced toward Ranboo’s room. Eret had been so calm and affectionate toward Ranboo just now. Had that been an act? Were they just that good at putting on a front? Tommy’s stomach twisted.

Eret seemed to read the unspoken question. “Ranboo and I hated each other for a while. Well, it was more like I hated him, and he just kept to himself. The team wasn’t the biggest fan of him either, so he really only left his room for practice. But then one night I found him during an amnesia episode. When he remembered everything, he didn’t handle it nearly as well as he does now. All I’ll say is we had a good talk, and after that we slowly got more comfortable around each other. Then the whole team. It wasn’t easy, and we still need time, but things are getting better. We were both victims of Dream, and now we’re gonna kick his ass at championships.”

Tommy choked. “ _ What? _ ”

Eret nodded, putting their glasses back on. “We’re ready to make him pay. We’re gonna beat the Ravens and screw up Dream’s whole betting ring. Him, George, and Sapnap. We’ll beat ‘em all.”

Tommy suddenly remembered those two men who would come by Logstedshire sometimes. One wore white sunglasses, the other a frighteningly confident smirk. Their voices had been muffled by his closed door, locked from the outside, and he had never really listened too hard. But he now remembered two words that had wormed their ways into his subconscious. “George” and “Sapnap.” He stumbled his way to the stairs. Tommy needed to be alone right now, this was too much.

“Whoa, whoa, Tommy,” Eret soothed. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Phil made a deal with Dream. Phil won’t go to the cops about the whole ‘me and Ranboo’ thing while Dream keeps his hands off of Phil’s Foxes. This team is literally the safest place you can be--”

Tommy wheezed out a laugh. Eret thought he was scared of Dream hurting him. They thought he was  _ safe.  _ If only they knew.

“I just need to… I need some space. Gotta process all this shit, yeah?” Tommy said through strained breaths. “See you tomorrow, big man.” Eret frowned, but Tommy turned tail and stumbled back to his room before they could say anything else. Tommy locked the door behind him and leaned against it, sliding to the floor. He managed to quiet his sobs when he heard footsteps, probably Eret's, climb the stairs, pause in front of Tommy’s door, and descend again. When Tommy heard Eret’s door shut, he let himself cry.

His father had been cruel, he knew that, but it had been fair. Tommy had deserved the warning shots and the beatings. But Eret, with their soothing voice and the way they had held Tommy so gently, didn’t deserve to be on the business end of Dream’s knives. Neither did quiet, nervous Ranboo.

But Dream had still hurt them. Tommy didn’t know what to think.

Tommy curled into the corner and let himself drift off, too tired to haul himself to bed. He had slept on the ground and in closets at Logstedshire, one more night without a bed wouldn’t kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's internal monologue during this whole chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kdHwzgQ15D4&ab_channel=NoMoreStars


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos and comments! I didn't expect this fic to get nearly as much love as it's getting. I appreciate it soso much!!!  
> ~~  
> tw: referenced alcoholism, referenced abuse, implied murder

Tommy woke naturally this time. He could hear muffled voices coming from downstairs, and Tommy tensed. Images of Dream starting a fight, trying to get to him, flickered in his mind. But the voices didn’t sound angry, and he didn’t hear anyone who sounded like Dream. Tommy got out of bed and padded his way to the door, stopping on his way to pick up a small note card that looked like it had been pushed under the door. It took Tommy a few moments to decipher the scrawled writing.

_ Sorry about the popper. My bad. Welcome to the Foxes. _

_ -Fundy _

And next to his name was a badly-drawn, cartoonish fox. Tommy left the note on his dresser, being sure to lock his door as he left.

He peered over the landing and did a quick count in his head. It looked like the whole team was here minus Technoblade. Tommy still hadn’t met him yet but, judging by his unamused expression in the photos Tommy had seen, he wasn’t too eager to make the man’s acquaintance.

One of the players looked up and grinned when he saw Tommy.  _ Tubbo _ , Tommy remembered dimly.

“Good morning Tommy!” he called, and Tommy fought down a flinch when everyone turned to look at him. Being around this many people was already weird, having them all looking at him was even worse.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and came down the stairs to meet the group. Fundy gave him a quick nod, and Tommy returned it. That was that, he supposed.

Tubbo held out a bagel with jelly, and Tommy realized that everyone was standing around in a circle eating.

“We got some breakfast,” Tubbo said. ‘I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got you a bagel. I hope that’s alright.” Tommy hesitantly took it. The paper crinkled in his hands. The bagel was toasted, and the smell made Tommy’s mouth water.

“That’s great. Thanks,” Tommy said. He took a bite and let out a small sigh. He was still getting used to having bread that wasn’t stale and food that wasn’t dry and burnt, but Tommy had a feeling that this would be a damn good bagel even to someone who had been eating decent food their whole life.

“We know you and Eret were going to go shopping, but we thought we all might tag along and visit some of the stores around there!” Tubbo continued. “Then we can all grab some food at this diner that we go to all the time!”

“If that’s alright with you of course, Tommy,” Eret added quickly, looking earnestly at Tommy through her glasses.

Tommy wasn’t used to being looked to for an opinion. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “Sure. Just let me grab my shoes.”

Tommy finished his bagel as he put on his shoes, and Tubbo was waiting at the foot of the stairs for him as soon as he got back.

“Have you been to the shops around here before?” he asked excitedly.

“Uh… no,” Tommy answered, praying Tubbo wouldn’t pry.

Thankfully he didn’t. “Oh my gosh, they’re so cool! There’s this one…”

Tubbo began walking Tommy to the door and everyone fell in behind them as they made their way into the street.

Tommy took stock of the group as they walked. Quackity walked with Tubbo, beside and slightly behind him, and with a glance over his shoulder Tommy noticed that Ranboo was practically pressed against Eret’s side, wringing his hands. Eret angled her body to let Ranboo stay close to her, almost sheltering him with her body as they walked. Fundy and Tubbo, however, seemed content to flit about between teammates, equally comfortable with everyone.

Tommy made careful note of this. He figured that knowing how the players felt about each other would make it harder to piss anyone off.

Tubbo cut off his own bubbly ramblings to announce that they had arrived at the shopping district. Tommy’s hands drifted up to pick at the hem of his sweatshirt. He didn’t like how many people were around here, milling about and talking. Tommy had only ever been around a maximum of three people, and the feeling of a crowd shifting around him made his skin itch.

“Alright everyone, break!” Eret laughed. Ranboo peeled himself from her side. “Meet at the diner in an hour.” Tommy hovered by Eret as the group split up. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Tubbo dragging Quackity by the hand.

Eret nodded Tommy toward a smaller-looking shop toward the end of the street, and Tommy was relieved to enter and find it relatively empty compared to the street. There were a few customers milling between clothing racks, and a bored-looking cashier, but that was it.

“I’m gonna pick out some stuff for me,” Eret said, eyes already roving over the racks. “Grab as much as you want, and we can check out together.”

Tommy nodded, already beginning to nervously shuffle away. “Alright.”

Tommy didn’t know what he was looking for. He had never had to pick out things before. He had only ever had to worry about the worn shirt and fading jeans he had on when he first arrived at the stadium and the food that Dream gave him.

After looking at pile after pile of shirts, none of which Tommy could force himself to have any sort of opinion about, he grabbed a white shirt with red sleeves. Tommy had always liked red, and this shirt would work just as well as any of the others. It felt pretty soft, too. Tommy grabbed a couple of them, along with variants in blue, yellow, and green. Pants mattered even less to Tommy, so he just grabbed some jeans, joggers, and cargo pants, and made his way back to Eret who was waiting beside the checkout. She looked like she had picked out more exciting clothes than Tommy, but she just took the bundle in his arms and piled the clothes up in front of the cashier, handing over a card to pay.

“You’ll get a team card on the first day of practice,” Eret explained as she slotted the card back into her wallet. “That way you can buy food and stuff.” Tommy’s things were put in a separate bag than Eret’s, and he took it gratefully from Eret. Holding something that Tommy could call all his own, not just a thing of Dream’s that he was borrowing, felt foreign. His hands tightened around the bag. It also felt really nice.

Tommy jumped as he heard a rapping at the storefront window just to his left. He glanced over and saw Tubbo, who was looking at him from the street with an eager smile. He called Tommy’s name, voice muffled by the glass, and gestured for him to come outside.

Tommy looked to Eret nervously. She had said Tommy was going out with her. He didn’t want to get in trouble for heading off alone.

But Eret just nodded encouragingly. “You can go with him if you want. Go have some fun, I’ve got a few more stores I wanna check out. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” Tommy nodded nervously, still not trusting Eret’s calm smile. Half of him expected her to reach out and grab him or hit him. But Eret just nodded at him again. With a deep breath, Tommy turned his back on Eret and went out front to meet Tubbo.

Quackity, leaning against the storefront, gave Tommy a relaxed wave, while Tubbo held out his hands to Tommy, excitedly bouncing on his toes. Something red was cupped in his hands.

“Big Q and I got you this!” Tubbo said, practically shoving the thing into Tommy’s hands. “Phil said you didn’t have a phone, so we grabbed you one! Sorry it’s just a flip phone, didn’t wanna get too much off the team card. But I have the same one! Mine is green though.”

Tommy’s fingertips skimmed over the smooth plastic of the phone, flicking idly at the decorative charm shaped like a CD dangling from it. He flipped the phone open, and to his surprise the contact page already had entries. The names of Tommy’s six other team members were all listed, as were Phil’s, Wilbur’s, and Niki’s.

“I went ahead and put everyone’s numbers in,” Tubbo explained. “I also added you to the team group chat, so if you start getting texts from everyone that’s why.”

Tommy’s mouth worked, trying to thank him, but he couldn’t make the words come out.

“Try calling me to make sure it works!” Tubbo said, unfazed. It took Tommy a few moments to figure out how to work the phone, but he eventually got a call through to Tubbo. A cheerful, chirping ringtone sounded from Tubbo’s pocket, and he fished out his phone. He was right, it was the same kind that Tommy had, just in bright green and sporting a bumblebee charm. He flipped it open and held the phone to his ear.

“Looks like it’s working!” Tubbo said, his voice tinnily echoing through the speaker of Tommy’s phone. Tubbo was smiling ear to ear, and Tommy felt his lips twitch into a small grin as well. Tubbo snapped his phone shut and glanced back at Quackity.

“Quackity and I were going to go to the diner a little early and get a snack,” Tubbo said, “so if you don’t have any other plans or need to buy anything else feel free to tag along!”

Tommy shook his head. He already had more than enough. “No, I’m good to go. And uh…” Tommy swallowed, “Thank you.”

~~~

Tommy had never expected to see the Sam Nook Diner again as long as he lived. But now here he was, following Tubbo and Quackity inside. He had frozen when they had first begun to approach the building, but he gained control of his body again before either of the others could notice. Maybe they would never even have to know that he had stolen from this place.

Of course, Tommy’s hopes were dashed immediately by the man milling about between tables. As soon as the three walked in, he raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Tubbo! Hey, Quackity! And you must be the guy who robbed me.” Tommy’s stomach knotted. Fuck this guy. And fuck his stupid green apron.

There was a beat of silence, before Quackity erupted into screeching laughter. “You robbed  _ Sam _ ? You’re on the Foxes because you robbed  _ this guy _ ?” He continued to cackle as Tommy felt himself flush. There were only a few other customers, and they didn’t seem to react to Quackity’s laughter. He was either in here often, or these people were just incredibly gifted at minding their own business.

But the man, apparently Sam, just chuckled and smiled at Tommy. “No worries, bud,” he said, “you probably needed the bread more than I did.”

“You stole some  _ bread _ ?” Quackity interjected between laughs, voice dripping with disbelief.

“But now that you can actually pay for things, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break into my store in the middle of the night anymore,” Sam said, somehow in good humor even though Tommy had stolen from him. Tommy hated meeting all these new people all at once. They all reacted to things differently, and Tommy never knew what to expect. At least when he lived with Dream, Tommy could predict how the man would respond. Usually.

Tommy couldn’t bring himself to look Sam in the eye again as he, Tubbo, and Quackity made their way to a booth in the corner, Tubbo asking for three milkshakes from Sam over his shoulder.

Quackity went to sit beside Tubbo, but Tubbo held up a hand to stop him. “Tommy, wanna sit with me?” Tommy nodded, sliding in beside Tubbo while Quackity took a seat across from the two. Tommy eyed him warily. He didn’t like how close Quackity held Tubbo. It reminded him of Dream.

After a bit of trial and error, Tommy typed out a text to Tubbo under the table, glancing at Quackity every so often. The two of them were chattering about something, but Tommy tuned it out.

_ is quackity bad to you?  _ Tommy typed. His wording wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. Tubbo’s phone chirped, and he absently glanced at it. Tommy didn’t know what to do if Tubbo indicated a yes, but he would find a way to get Tubbo away from Quackity. He had known Tubbo for a day, but he already knew he would do anything to keep the cheerful boy safe.

But Tubbo just smiled sadly and put his phone away. “Tommy,” he said softly, “I’m fine. Thank you, but I’m good.” Quackity didn’t pry, he just went on about whatever he and Tubbo had been talking about. Maybe he didn’t pick up on what exactly had happened.

Sam interrupted a few minutes later with three vanilla milkshakes. Tommy took a sip of his and immediately proceeded to chug half of it. Tubbo laughingly told him to slow down just in the knick of time. Tommy could feel a borderline brain freeze pressing behind his eyes. Tommy let the other two do the talking, instead electing to quietly nurse the rest of his glass.

Suddenly, Tommy felt the seat he was sharing with Tubbo shift.

“I’ll be right back,” Tubbo said, getting up. “Gotta pee.” And then he was gone. Tommy swallowed the lump in his throat. He was alone with Quackity, and the man was looking at him with a seriousness that made Tommy nervous.

“Did you text Tubbo about me?” he asked. “You can be honest, it’s okay.”

Tommy picked at his sleeve and nodded. Dream had always told him it was better to tell the truth than to lie. He would get into less trouble that way.

But Quackity didn’t get angry. He just smiled tiredly. “It’s okay, I get it. You’re not the first to ask. We’re just… we’re very close.”

Quackity trailed off, but Tommy cocked his head, prompting Quackity to continue. If he wanted Tommy to trust him, he would have to do better than that.

Quackity sighed. “I used to be engaged to Tubbo’s dad, so the three of us lived together for a while. Schlatt-- Tubbo’s dad liked to drink and he, uh, wasn’t the gentlest guy to Tubbo or to me, so Tubbo and looked out for each other. I was there when Tubbo got those burns.” Quackity’s eyes grew distant for a moment, before he shook his head and seemed to resurface from whatever memories had overtaken him. “I took over taking care of Tubbo when his dad died. It makes me feel better to be with him, and Tubbo feels calmer knowing I’m there to look out for him. But if he ever wants to be on his own, I say yes, no question. I appreciate you looking out for him, I can’t tell you how much I do, but I promise we both stay close because we want to.”

Tommy nodded. He did have one question, though. “How did Tubbo’s dad die?” He shouldn’t ask questions, Dream had hated them. But Tommy had to know how the man who had hurt Tubbo, the man who gave him those scars, died.

It felt like the air got sucked out of the room as soon as the words left Tommy’s mouth. He could have cut the tension with a knife.

“Car wreck,” Quackity said. His gaze turned cold. “An accident.”

“Did you... “ Tommy felt himself asking. He shouldn’t ask. But he had to know. “Were you in the car?”

Quackity nodded. Tommy nodded back. Tommy had been surrounded by violence his whole life, and he realized that he would kill a man to protect Tubbo in an instant. He was glad that Quackity felt the same.

When Tubbo came out of the restroom, Quackity’s mood immediately shifted. He smiled at Tubbo and the conversation picked up again. Quackity laughed easily, and Tommy found himself laughing along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't love this chapter but meh.
> 
> Nothing like murder to really break the ice, huh?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes to a banquet and it is totally fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have said it before, but spoiler alert for the All For the Game trilogy by Nora Sakavic. Please read them I am BEGGING YOU. (but also: trigger warning. Like... all of them.) Anyway.  
> ~~~  
> Trigger warning: Reference to panic attacks

Once practices began, Tommy’s weeks started to blend together.

He didn’t meet Techno until the first day of practice, and it honestly was a bit underwhelming. Techno had shot him a nod on his way to the goal during their first drill, and from there Techno didn’t treat Tommy any differently than anyone else on the team. It was a bit refreshing not to be the center of attention if Tommy was honest.

While they practiced, Tommy realized that the Foxes were actually pretty good. He could understand why Dream had made Eret sabotage them. Tommy and Ranboo were quick, and Tubbo was agile. Eret could play front line or back line with equal skill, and Quackity, Fundy, and Techno made a relentless defense. Quackity was a fine goalie, but Techno was absolutely  _ incredible _ . At least, he was when he tried. Techno spent most of the time watching scrimmages with bored glances, leaning against his racquet and not even blinking as balls flew past him into the goal. Sometimes he would carelessly flick a shot away, and the few times Phil was present at practices he could urge Techno into trying. And when that happened, none of the players could score a single point. But no one other than Phil, not even Wilbur or Eret, could convince Techno to put even an ounce of effort in. But that was just during practice. During games, Techno was unstoppable.

They all were. Quackity had been right, Eret pushed them incredibly hard at practices. But Tommy was grateful for it. Without the relentless drills, Tommy wouldn’t have been able to keep up on the court during games. He, Ranboo, and Tubbo managed to form a decent offensive line together, and they, combined with the defense and goalies, had managed to win enough games to qualify for the national tournament.

They had all gone to Sam’s diner that night to celebrate. Those group meals at the diner had been a regular occurrence since everyone had moved in, but Tommy still wasn’t quite used to them. It had taken him a few weeks and a number of panic attacks to finally convince himself that no one here was going to hit him, and even then sometimes he couldn’t stop the reflexive flinch that had been drilled into him his whole life. He was learning, though, slowly but surely.

But one thing Tommy wasn’t sure he would ever be accustomed to was the food privileges. He had gone to bed without eating after the first few practices when Eret hadn’t come to his room with dinner. Eret had been frustrated with him during practices and kept scolding his technique, so he had assumed that, like Dream, Eret wouldn’t let Tommy eat for the day as punishment. When Tommy had almost passed out from hunger one day, Wilbur had pulled him aside and asked about it. It had taken a lengthy conversation with Wilbur and Eret (during which Tommy definitely didn’t cry. He was a big man, of course.) for Tommy to realize that he could get his own food whenever he wanted, even if he was bad. Wilbur, Eret, and Phil lent a hand with cooking, too, on the nights when Dream’s voice in Tommy’s head told him that he hadn’t been good enough to eat and Tommy just couldn’t muster up the energy to overcome it. It was an uphill battle, but Tommy was slowly falling into a normal eating schedule. He tried not to get too used to it; he would have to go back to his constant struggle for food at Logstedshire one day, but for now he might as well take advantage of the constant nutrition. Tommy had started to fill out and gain at least some semblance of muscle for the first time. This was a strategic move, really. Tommy wasn’t attached. No siree, no way.

But every day, with every nod from Wilbur or smile from Tubbo, Tommy found himself forgetting Dream just a little more. But that couldn’t last.

The team’s qualification for nationals meant that they were required to attend a banquet. And, apparently, the Ravens would be there. When he had first heard the news, Tommy had fought down his fear. A huge reaction to a team Tommy wasn’t supposed to know about would just make everyone suspicious. Sure, he had ducked in the bathroom before getting on the bus to have a quick panic attack, but all things considered, Tommy thought he was taking it fairly well.

The entire bus trip had been dead silent. The Foxes had continually checked in on Eret and Ranboo, but Tommy didn’t have the same support. No one knew about Tommy’s connection with the Ravens. But he was fine. He had made it through Logstedshire alone, so he could make it through this alone, too.

~~~

The event hall was boring. It was just a repurposed gym full of folding tables and chairs. Tommy attempted to blow off some steam by making a few halfhearted jokes about the shit location, but the team was too tense to laugh. Tommy couldn’t blame them.

All of the jokes fell away when the Foxes were shown to their table. Wilbur swore under his breath. The Foxes were seated facing the Ravens. And there, front and center, were Sapnap and George.

They looked exactly how Tommy remembered them. Sapnap leaned forward, elbows on the table, and smirked at the Foxes. George sat leaned back, looking over his white sunglasses with disdain. Their eyes bored into Tommy, and he shifted his weight. Tommy knew he should sit down, so he managed to shuffle his way as far from the two as he could get, Eret and Ranboo to one side of him and Tubbo and Quackity to the other. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy saw Eret and Ranboo holding hands under the table so tightly their knuckles turned white. Tommy would like Tubbo to do the same for him, but he wouldn’t ask him for that. Tommy could handle this on his own. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as Sapnap and George’s eyes bored into him.

The rest of the Ravens mumbled among themselves, glancing up at the Foxes with disinterest, but when Sapnap spoke, his voice was all Tommy could hear.

“Hello, Foxes, nice to see you all on the court again. And with a new player, no less.” Tommy’s stomach turned. Sapnap smiled. “Remind me of your name again… starts with a T… Theseus?”

Tommy’s blood ran cold.

“From Logstedshire?” George added.

Eret and Ranboo froze. Tommy couldn’t look at them.

But Quackity just cackled. “What the hell?” he wheezed.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Fundy added with a smirk.

Tommy took a deep breath and let the jabs of his teammates steel himself. “Yeah, man, ‘Theseus?’ ‘Logstedshire?’ The fuck kind of names are those?” He fought to keep the waver out of his voice as he spoke and managed to tack on a breathy laugh. Maybe he could talk his way out of this.

But Sapnap wasn’t deterred. “No, George, you’re thinking of Eret and Ranboo. We said we were going to take them to Logstedshire, before we were so rudely interrupted.” He directed his attention to the pair beside Tommy. They were frighteningly pale. The sunglasses both wore meant Tommy couldn’t tell where they were looking. He didn’t know whether he hoped it was at Sapnap or at him.

George held his hands up to his face in mock shock. “Oh, no one’s supposed to know about Logstedshire, are they?” His expression melted into a sinister glare. “But it’s not like these guys can tell anyone. They know what will happen if they do.”

Tommy, Eret, and Ranboo all flinched away when Wilbur, all the way on the other end of the row of chairs, slammed his fist down on the table and stood.

“Nope,” he said. “Nope, this was a horrible idea. We’re done here, the League can suck my dick. Everyone up, we’re leaving.”

The team immediately clustered around Eret and Ranboo and guided the two towards the exit. Tommy went to follow, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his sleeve. He moved to pull away, but froze when he looked over his shoulder and saw that it was George holding him back.

“This Friday, you’re going to meet us at the docks by the stadium,” he said, frighteningly calm. “You’re going to stay with the Ravens for a week, then you’re going to be Dream’s again. If you don’t show, we’ll hurt your precious Foxes. I’m sure you know now that we’re  _ very _ capable of that.” With a threatening squeeze, George dropped Tommy’s arm and slumped back into his seat.

Sapnap waved and flashed a wolfish smile. “See you then,  _ Theseus _ .”

Tommy nearly tripped over his own feet scrambling out behind the team.

Phil had driven from the Foxes’ apartments and was still in the driver’s seat, leaned forward against the wheel. He was chatting with Will much more easily than Tommy would like.

“How long did that take?” Phil asked.

Will glanced at his watch. “Uh… four minutes and thirteen seconds.”

Phil shrugged. “Longer than I thought we would make it, to be honest. Well, at least we can say that we came. The Exy League can’t get up my ass about it.”

Tommy attempted to slip past the two, fighting to calm the roiling in his stomach, but stopped as he walked straight into someone’s chest. He flinched back and looked up to see Technoblade scowling down at him, with the rest of the team behind him, peering at the two with curiosity.

“Hey Tommy?” Techno said. “How the  _ fuck _ do you know Dream?”

Tommy felt like he was going to vomit. “Wh… what?”

“Tech,” Tubbo hissed. “What are you--”

Techno cut him off. “Sapnap isn’t stupid,” he said. “He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t get confused, and he doesn’t forget. How do you know about Logstedshire?”

“I…” Tommy’s mouth was dry. “I don’t…”

“What’s going on back here?” Phil called, getting up and making his way back to the group, Wilbur following close behind.

“Techno,” said Eret. Their voice was tense. “Just let it go. If Tommy doesn’t want to talk about where he was before he got here, we don’t--”

Techno wasn’t having any of it. “No, normally I don’t give a shit about all of your fucked up childhoods, but all of that goes out the window when that fucker is involved. Not after he hurt Ranboo and Eret.” 

Tommy could feel his eyes starting to burn. A lump was forming in his throat and it was getting hard to breathe. “I can’t… you don’t…” he managed to stutter between gasps. Tommy thought it would have taken longer for his cover to be blown. But he had just expected to run, not to be discovered like this.

Techno huffed and bent down to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Tommy,” he said, “I need to know about Dream in case he ever comes back for you. I need to be able to protect you and the rest of my team.” Tommy wiped his eyes and managed to meet Techno’s gazw. The only emotion coming off of the pink-haired man was a vague sense of protectiveness. Techno’s level-headedness helped ground Tommy. If the team found out that Tommy was related to Dream, he would be back on the streets for sure. It wasn’t perfect, but Tommy had an idea. He opened his mouth and did what he did best. He let his mouth run.

With his whole team listening, Wilbur and Phil behind him, Tommy cobbled together a bastard narrative somewhere between the truth and false upbringing he had implied to Phil. He kept the running away from shit parents, but instead of being on the streets, Tommy said that Dream had found him starving in an alley and brought him back to Logstedshire, keeping him there and making Tommy work for him. Tommy didn’t know enough about Dream’s supposed crime ring to give specifics, so he managed to dance around that topic. He prayed that Techno didn’t press the issue. His hands were already shaking, so Tommy didn’t have to try too hard to sell his role. He said he had run away one day when Dream’s typical violence escalated to the point where Tommy feared for his life. The team knew the story from there. Tommy’s eyes were trained on the floor the entire time.

“Tommy,” Techno said quietly. Normally he would brush this off, but the mention of Dream had brought back the well-behaved mentality Tommy had had back at Logstedshire. His eyes snapped up to look at Techno obediently.

Techno was leaning forward, not breaking his gaze away from Tommy. “Tommy,” he said again, “you’re a Fox now. You’re on  _ my  _ team. And I will tear that man limb from limb before I let him touch any of you.”

And then he said the words that Tommy had fought so hard to keep himself from believing. “Tommy,” Techno said, “you’re safe.”

He wanted to believe that, he really did. But he was going to be leaving Friday, apparently going back into Dream’s hands. Tommy didn’t know how that was going to work with the man still in jail, but he knew better than to question Dream.

But Tommy let himself nod assent. Techno straightened and turned away from Tommy, heading to the back of the bus and slumping against the window, closing his eyes and apparently falling asleep.

Tubbo, sitting on the right just past Tommy, whispered something to Quackity, who was sitting beside him. Quackity nodded, ruffled Tubbo’s hair with a smile, and moved two seats behind him. Tubbo gestured for Tommy to sit beside him with a smile so gentle Tommy thought he was going to cry. He could feel the others avoiding eye contact from him and giving him space. Tommy was so grateful for it.

Tommy sank down beside Tubbo on the cheap leather seat as Phil turned on the bus and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Can I touch you?” Tubbo asked, and  _ G-d yes _ , Tommy wanted to be touched. He only had a few days left before he had to go back to heavy-handed Dream. He wanted to be held up until the second he had to leave.

He just nodded, and Tubbo pulled him into a warm embrace.

And Tommy definitely didn’t cry. He was a big man. Big men didn’t cry because their friends hugged them.

Tommy drank Tubbo’s body heat that felt like it was boiling him from the inside out, like some kind of fucking lobster or some shit. He let his brain be overcome by the sensation of Tubbo gently scratching his back.

Basking in the drone of the Foxes’ conversations and the rumble of the bus’s engine, Tommy felt sleep beginning to pull at him..

Fuck, he thought. He was going to miss this.

And at that, Tommy slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the pacing is kinda whack. Fitting an entire trilogy into one fic is uhhh.. a lot. So I'm gonna be doing a few scenes from each book with some condensed time skips fitting them together. This chapter marks the transition into the events of the second book, though, which is pog!!  
> Sorry about the wait btw, I am literally. So busy. My life is pain. Anyway hope y'all enjoyed. This one was kinda rushed but I wanted to get it out there haha
> 
> Also 2K HITS????? ALMOST 100 COMMENTS? 170 KUDOS?? I'M GONNA CRY THANK Y'ALL


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